


What We're Meant to Do

by Miri1984



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Typical Awfulness, Drugging, Gen, Mind Control, Slavery, spoilers for episode 150
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:35:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23110300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miri1984/pseuds/Miri1984
Summary: Skraak's thought processes as he comes back to himself. Spoilers through RQG 150.
Comments: 11
Kudos: 80





	What We're Meant to Do

The orders are to kill the people at the top of the stairs. Skraak follows orders, it’s what he’s meant to do. He follows the others through the room filled with dead because he’s been told to kill the people at the top of the stairs. There’s no reason to look at the corpses, to see if he recognises their charred and broken bodies, to try to remember if any of them were his bunkmates last night, the night before, if they’d shared meals, words, tasks...

None of that is important, because Skraak has his orders, and Skraak knows he must follow them.

* * *

The halfling kills Rekki with one sweep of dragon-y claws and Skraak stops. Skraak feels a pull in his gut, an instinct that is strong, that reaches through the fog.  _ The halfling is like him.  _ He follows, because he doesn’t know what else to do, because it’s habit, to say yes when he’s told to do something, because the world only makes sense when he has a purpose, a task to complete. If he stops, if he waits, the fog takes over and then it’s hard to even remember that he is Skraak.

He doesn’t want to forget that. He repeats it to himself, as they make their way to the lift. He wonders why it is so important to remember. Perhaps there was a time when he didn’t know that he was Skraak? That makes some sort of sense. The halfling calls him by name and speaks to him gently. The halfling reminds him that he is Skraak, so for now, he will help him.

* * *

The ladder goes down. 

It’s so far. So far to the bottom. He doesn’t know how he knows that, doesn’t know how he could possibly know that since he’s never been down here before (he’s been down here before, it’s where he comes from, where they all come from) but he knows it’s so far. Each movement of his arms on the rungs of the ladder feels like an added weight. He thinks if he let go he might fall forever. He wonders if that would be better.

After an hour (or five? Time has no meaning for them, they’re not  _ allowed  _ time) he feels a hand on his shoulder. 

Skraak knows that he  _ should  _ know the words the dwarf speaks, but they’re walled off (like so much else is walled off) and he’s so tired. From below him, the halfling (the dragon, the one with the power, the one who killed…) speaks. 

“Zolf can carry you, Skraak,” he says. “It looks like this ladder goes on for a lot longer than we thought it did.”

Skraak’s claws tighten on the ladder for a moment, then looks at the dwarf again, floating with his magic. They’re more powerful than him. They can help. He has to let them help. 

He reaches out an arm and the dwarf pulls him close, helping to tie him in place so he can still use his hands to hold the light they need  _ (they _ need, not Skraak, Skraak knows the dark, Skraak comes from the dark, the dark is where he belongs) to see. The strength is comforting. It feels familiar. He settles against the dwarf and they continue down.

* * *

It’s been hours and the fog is lifting. It’s easier to talk, to understand, easier to comprehend the danger they’re in when the barrier clangs down and traps him with the halfling. Hamid. That’s his name. It’s easier to remember that now, too, easier to remember he is Skraak. He follows Hamid. Does what Hamid says. That… is what he’s  _ supposed  _ to do. He’s supposed to do what they say. 

Isn’t he?

* * *

The room is familiar. It shouldn’t be familiar. He’s never been here before, he  _ knows  _ he’s never been here before, but he also knows there’s something else. Something beneath him. Something that should be warm and good and safe. But isn’t.

The fog is lifting, and for the first time, he isn’t sure if he wants it to.

* * *

Hamid holds out a hand and says something and the thing…  _ Shoin... _ is engulfed in flame. Skraak blinks and in his mind he sees the bodies of his people, scattered as though they had been blown apart by a spell. By a fireball. By  _ Hamid _ . 

Skraak blinks and in his mind he sees Hamid in front of him, tall and imposing, brushed with bronze, commanding him to obey, claws still dripping with Rekki’s blood. 

Why did he do that, again?

Why was it so important to have someone to obey?

Skraak blinks and shakes his head. There are blobs trying to get to him, but he needs to get away. Away from the clanking monstrosity that is almost certainly going to kill Hamid and the others. They’re not powerful enough, after all. They can’t help him. And perhaps, just perhaps, they deserve to die.

* * *

The lift goes down and it gets warmer and Skraak can remember. This used to be home. 

Before Shoin came. 

_ Skraak can remember when Shoin came. _

* * *

Oh gods.

* * *

Hamid tells them to sleep. Skraak doesn’t want to sleep. He wants to forget, he wants to go back except that if he does that he  _ will  _ forget and somehow that’s worse, worse than the dreadful, poisonous knowledge like the weight of lead in his gut. Every time he blinks he sees nothing but rows and rows of cages and green eyes where once there had been homes, where once there had been life and laughter and company and family. 

Every time he blinks he sees Hamid, one hand outstretched, calling down fire. Fire that killed his friends, his  _ people, _ as surely as it killed Shoin. 

Hamid is telling him to sleep, and Skraak doesn’t want to follow his orders. Not any more. But he is so tired and with other kobolds next to him, the comfort of the clutch takes over (it doesn’t matter that their eyes are blank when their bodies are familiar and he knows they’ll get better, just like he got better, just like he’s getting better, they’ll get better and they’ll know and then… and  _ then... _ ) 

His dreams are full of fire and death, but they’re not frightening. This time he is the one who calls down the fire. This time _ he _ gives the orders.

* * *

It’s what he’s meant to do, after all.

  
  
  
  



End file.
